The Power of 'What If'
by colormerainbows21
Summary: What would have played out differently if Alex Cabot's daughter's suicide attempt had failed? Rated M for language and heavy material.
1. Chapter 1

**The Power of "What If" **

A/N: Hey guys! So this is something I had in my head after completing the final chapter of my Tainted Hearts story. I planned on it being a one shot, but as I sat down to write, I wasn't sure how many chapters it could end up being. I will leave it as in progress, though, so that if it blossoms into more than I expect and y'all like it, I can continue. You don't necessarily have to read Tainted Hearts first to follow this story, but it may be helpful to you just for reference if you do. This is mostly going to be from the perspective of Raye Anne, one of the characters in that story, and explore how things could have played out entirely different had her suicide attempt not been successful, but will have perspectives of some other characters too. That story dealt with some heavy things like suicide and addiction, and this one will have its share of darker points too, albeit with a bit of fluff thrown in if continued; Just a forewarning. I know I have another ongoing story, In the Name of Love, that I haven't updated in ages, and I'm really sorry about that. I've just gotten back to writing and all of the things I had going, so I promise to try to update that one soon, too! As always, thank you all for all the support and love!

I wrote the note in black ink, and for someone about to complete an action that had such finality, I was surprisingly lacking emotion. No messy, hurried writing, no smudges or ink streams down my page due to the wetness of tears. I was rather meticulous and laboured in the way I had thought this out. Some may call it selfish, and it may have been, but I also believed it selfish of the people around me to continuously surround me but not see me, treat me like shit under their shoes, diminish my feelings, yet expect me to stay here and be loving in a world full of cruel. Honest in a world full of bullshit. People will tell you they care, and they act like it to your face, but behind your back, your friends become your enemies and we're all out for ourselves.

Maybe this was my way of looking out for myself. Leaving. Everyone else did it to me, and if they didn't do it to me, they acted like they wanted me to do it. As if the world would lack nothing more than a breath's worth of the vast amount of space it held, without me. You know what? I was starting to believe that.

I get really good grades, and I'm really smart, but I'm not really that popular. People tend to think that if you're smart and at least kinda pretty, it automatically grants you a free pass into the 'right' crowd. It doesn't. That's actually the biggest crock of shit people will tell you about school. I'm not gonna brag on my looks or anything, because I definitely know more gorgeous people, but even on my worst days, when the bullies are relentless and the bitches are so fake, I don't really think I'm completely ugly. My Mom isn't really there all that much, and by 'there' I don't mean she isn't one of those soccer every week, bake sale going, pick me up after school kind of Moms and I wish she were. I mean, she isn't really present at all. She's an ADA, and I know she's busy, but sometimes it feels like I don't have parents. Daddy died before I was born, Mom said it was an accident. I wonder what he'd be like all the time. If he'd make up for the times Mom wasn't here. We've had some good moments, Mom and I, but I wish they weren't so rare. Maybe the fact that they're so few and far between is why she thinks I have so many friends. She doesn't know any better. I have friends, but not very many solid ones. Not as many as she'd like to think. That's why I say I'm not all that popular. Actually, I'm somewhat of a loser. I get bullied a lot.

Lunches are sometimes the shittiest. I've eaten in the bathroom on the closed seat of the toilet before, listening to the popular oh-so-fakes walk in and out, preening themselves, and talking about other people. Me, a lot of the time. It sucks to sit there and hear everything being said about you, without them knowing you're there and not having the balls to make your presence known. Maybe that's half my problem, I have no balls. I'm too nice to everyone. The few good people I've come into contact with, and let into my world even a little, have told me that bullies are just insecure, so they lash out. I'm insecure as shit about a lot of things, but I don't go spewing hate. Maybe I should start. Would that make me feel better, to do what they do? I doubt it, but sometimes I wonder.

Anyways, I sat there and I wrote that note, and when I finished, I didn't even read it over. I folded it into a small cube of paper, crisply white and innocent on the outside, unaffected by the poison that would be released upon its reading. I then thought better of folding it, and laid it out flat on my desk. It needed to be seen, right? If I was gonna be so much of a selfish bitch, I could at least leave an explanation where it'd be easily noticed.

Sometimes, I have happy moments amidst the darkness and I wonder if this night, its outcome, will be worth it. If I could just will myself to be a little more patient, a little more understanding, a little stronger when around all these forces that attempt to weaken me, would the happiness be more frequent? I don't really know, but I don't think so.

I went into the bathroom and found a bottle of my Mom's sleeping medications in the cupboard above the toilet. If I were going to die, I didn't want to do so in a bathroom. I went back to my room, took a copious amount of those little white capsules, and pushed all thought of anything out of my head as I waited for sleep to save me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Evidently a permanent state of deadness comes easier for some people than it did for me. The realization that I was in fact alive hit me when bright florescent lights blinded me, almost making me wish I hadn't opened my eyes even the little bit that I had, and when my ears took in the _beep-swish-whirring_ sounds of machines around me, I knew I must be in a hospital, my attempt having failed and all my senses miraculously still functioning without complication. I should have been grateful for this, I guess. But in the moment, I really wasn't.

I saw my Mom in my peripheral vision, and I had a vague sense that she'd been crying.

_No shit, asshole. You just tried to off yourself, why wouldn't she be crying?!_

The rational part of my brain spoke to me in times I most needed but least wanted to hear it, and I wish I could quell the loudness of it, rattling inside my head, making me feel worse than I already did after waking from my state of almost death.

"Baby, are you okay?! What did you do? What were you thinking?! Was it because of me?"

So many questions being fired at me, and not enough strength in my still half dead body to be able to process them correctly. Her cheeks were tear stained, wisps of her long blonde hair stuck to her forehead in some places where she hadn't brushed it back or fixed it after all the commotion and crying. The look in her eyes, although hazy and blurry when observed through my own, was undoubtedly a pained one. I had caused that pain, but the pain that had caused the swiftness of those actions in my room, with that note laid out on the desk, was in part due to her. She'd even asked.

_Was it because of me?_

The fourth and final of her rapid fire questions hung in the air between us like ringlets caused by the exhalation of cigarette smoke that lazily floated along the breeze, until their dissipation into nothing. That was what I so wished the question itself would do-dissipate. So that I, in my state of groggy-headed emptiness, wouldn't have to answer it. I couldn't look her in the face and say that yes, she had been one of the many yet also major reasons why I had decided to leave the world. I couldn't do that now, not here. Maybe not ever. So I lied. I became as fake in that moment as those oh-so-fake preening bitches in the bathroom at school. I pasted a kinda-sorta attempt at a weak assed smile on my face, and I let the lie come from my lips with an amount of apathy that frightened me.

"No Mom, it wasn't you. I swear. Can we talk about this later? I feel really sick, and these lights are making my head hurt."

As if ignoring my request, she kept talking. God, I wished just this once that she'd listen.

"I'd imagine sick would be putting it mildly. You're lucky to be alive right now. They almost couldn't save you."

_ And I wish they hadn't. _

"Liv is here too. I called her for moral support when I found you.. the way I found you."

The thought of Olivia made being alive seem a little more bearable. There was something about her that I always liked, even if I couldn't pinpoint it and I'd only seen her a handful of times.

"I saw the note, Raye. I know what you were playing at."

Mom hadn't been able to bring herself to say the actual word; _suicide, _and I was glad of it. As if calling it something else, or not mentioning it at all made it seem less ugly.

"Olivia wants to see you, before she goes home."

_Finally something to make you stop talking. _I thought, and then felt the pull of my guilty conscience for thinking it.

I nodded my head as faintly as I could while still making the gesture noticeable to my mother. I just wanted the pounding to stop, and bobbing my head vigorously up and down was not the way to go about achieving that desire, so I nodded wordlessly, only a little, and watched the familiarity of her gait striding away from me, out of my room, as she'd done so many times before.

Mere seconds passed before I saw the brunette smile weakly, making her way to my bedside. As she got closer, my vision less obscured now having become accustomed to the brightness of the lights, I saw that she looked as if she'd been crying too.

_ Now you should really feel like a sack of shit. You like Olivia, and you've even upset her. _

I wished so desperately again that the rational part of my brain would shut the fuck up and leave me with any shred of inner peace, before hearing her speak.

"Hey kiddo, I'm happy you're okay."

_God, I love her. No goddamn questions. Sympathy, understanding and compassion. Why can't you be my mother, Olivia Benson?_

"Thanks. I'm not."

Another thing I both loved and hated about Olivia, was that I couldn't lie to her. Unlike Mom, with her I wouldn't even attempt it. It was something in her eyes. They made you want to bore your soul, the truth of it, no matter how ugly it was at its core.

Upon hearing what I'd just said, she became stern, but not flip out angry, like Mom would have done. I appreciated that.

"Don't ever say that. I imagine you had a lot going on at the time of your.. decision...but people love you here too."

Her mind seemed to wander for a minute, eyes getting that far away starry look that cartoon characters get when they're in love or hit with something heavy that makes them dizzy. When I knew I had her full attention, I spoke again.

"It doesn't feel like it."

"I haven't told you this, but I do. And I'm here if you ever need to talk. Anytime."

She handed me a card with her number on it, even though Mom undoubtedly already had it. It made me feel warm, for the first time in a long time that she'd given me a card with her number, all my own, and hearing I love you from somebody who undoubtedly meant it had more significance to me than I ever could have told her.

"Thanks," I said lamely. Jesus. I was saying that a lot lately.

"No problem. I'll send your Mom back in. I gotta get home to Elliot. He's probably wondering where in hell I am and what happened."

So I watched her walk away and go home to her boyfriend, who I thought was super fucking gorgeous but would never say so. This time though, I felt like the person walking away from me, actually gave enough of a damn to come back if and when I needed her.

As she finally walked in the door of the apartment we shared together, I let out a slow breath of relief. I hadn't heard her pull up, but she wasn't hysterical upon arrival, which I took as a good sign. Probably meant that Raye was at least alive, even if in a possible vegetative state, though I tried not to assume the worst. It was difficult not to, in our job.

"Hi baby. Sorry I'm so late and didn't call you from the hospital a while ago. I should've."

Feeling her lips connect with mine, turned me to mush and all was forgiven. It was impossible for me to stay angry at this woman. People at the one six often thought I could be kind of a dick, and before I met her, before our relationship blossomed as it had done, I guess I was. It sounds so cliche to say 'she changed me,' but she did.

"It's okay. I know you had a lot going on, trying to comfort Alex and all. How's Raye? Is she okay?"

"She's fine, awake. Feeling like shit, but awake. I talked to her a few minutes before I left. She may be alive, but her spirit isn't, El. It's so sad. I don't know what's going on, but she looked at me like she needed me. I gave her my number, in case she actually does."

"That sounds like something you would do. You have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known in my life."

It was true. Despite everything she's been through, this woman continuously radiated copious amounts of love, and it was beyond my realm of comprehension exactly how she managed it.

"I just stand for what's right."

As I made love to her that night, I was ever so aware of just how incredibly lost and dead I would be if she decided to do something so swift and stupid as Raye had done, or if God forbid, a child we created together decided to do it, and succeeded. On the other side of that same thought, was the realization that she never would. I knew she stood for what was right, and I knew she was strong, I just hoped she had enough strength not to let 'standing for what's right' get her in over her head.

_She looked at me like she needed me..._

Everybody needs you, Olivia..everybody needs you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Law and Order SVU or any associated characters. All other characters or situations I've created in this story are figments of my imagination intended to bear no resemblance to any actual persons. Any similarities are purely coincidental.

As I felt my body begin to wake and my mind sluggish, trying to catch up, I was acutely aware of the throbbing in my head. It reminded me of the hospital, only this time there were no bright florescent lights above my bed, no smell of antiseptic or disinfectant, or beeping and whirring of machines keeping people's bodies existing rather than actually living. I was in my own bed, but even that wasn't much of a comfort. I felt just as awful waking up under my own plush covers, raising my head off my own fleecy pillows, as I did when I'd awoken in the hospital from my state of almost death. The only difference between the two kinds of awful, were that inflicting this one upon myself had been much more pleasant at the time I had done it.

I slowly raised myself up out of bed, and hoped that Mom would already be at work as I headed toward the shower. The last thing I wanted or needed after last night, with the bad shape I was in, was to hear her hammering on and on about nothing. The coolness of the bathroom floor hit unexpectedly against the soles of my feet as skin connected with tile, causing me to be shocked out of my almost-but-not-quite vapid state. I went through the motion of starting the shower without really being aware I was doing it, and stripped myself of my wrinkled, long ago stretched out and worn tank that I always used as a night shirt while standing in the small area of room between the sink and the toilet. I hadn't taken care enough after walking in to close the door behind me. I never did, not usually, but I did so right then.

Turning myself in the direction of the huge mirror hanging on the wall, I was met with the image of my own reflection staring me in the face. Nakedness, bearing skin without the protection of clothing, was a lot different than the idea I had of my body fully clothed. In seeing myself the way I actually was, I felt an indescribable amount of hatred for that mirror as the ideas of average disintegrated and the truth of ugly replaced them.

I could only stand there a mere few minutes, looking at myself, seeing my ugly truth in all its imperfect and flawed glory before I felt the insatiable need to rid myself of whatever it was I saw in nakedness that I didn't like. I made my way into the shower, the warm water cascading down onto me and becoming hotter and hotter as I stood there, not wanting to rush the rituals of massaging shampoo into my hair, feeling the soap suds foam up and add weight to my head, or scrubbing my skin so clean there was a feeling of rawness to it. I just wanted to stand in the steam and the heat and appreciate the fact I could feel something more than loathing and hatred. So I stood there, allowing my mind to wander back to the events that had occurred the previous night, feeling my heart flutter a little, wondering when or if I'd see him again...

_ "No, Raye! You're not going out. You were just released from the hospital not even two months ago for a failed SUICIDE attempt! You don't need to be going out late at night, you need to be recovering."_

_ For an assistant district attorney, there were times when I found Mom's ability to argue incredibly mediocre, her points invalid and undistinguished. I mean, really, telling your fucked up, depressed daughter who recently failed at offing herself she needed to recover by staying home alone sleeping and "getting equilibrium back" as she so often put it, rather than going out and being surrounded by friends (or people who could pass as such) could probably make for one of the dumbest arguments of the year. Seriously, which one did she think would lift my spirits more? _

_ I don't think she trusted me, and maybe after what I'd recently done she had reason not to. But I don't mean just because of that. I mean I don't think she trusted me ever, at any point. Weird for someone who was hardly ever home. It was like she left me to my own devices waiting for me to fuck up, and then when I did, she felt she could step in and play the role of a real parent, enforcing and laying down the law. _

_ I put up more of a fight, trying to get the ever-so-hard-headed attorney to see my side and discuss it rationally, but to no avail. Giving up, or so she thought, I stalked loudly and angrily up the stairs to my room, slamming the door behind me for added effect. Lowering myself down into my computer chair with a thud, I used my feet against the floor to propel myself toward my desk. Wiggling the mouse in effort to wake the computer from sleep, I entered my password, logged into Facebook and heard the PING of a new message before I even had time to blink. _

_ **Celeste Crawford:**_

_ You going to that party tonight? _

_ I rolled my eyes a little. Cee had always been kind of an eager beaver. Short attention span and no patience. Although I got bullied quite frequently and had the reputation of a loner, Celeste was one of my only friends who wasn't completely fake. I could trust her more than most people, which wasn't all that much, but better than nothing. I knew more about her than most of the school, which again, even though it wasn't all that much knowledge was still saying quite a bit considering how much high schoolers gossiped and talked about each other and the happenings (or what they thought to be the actual happenings) of each others' lives. _

_ **Raye-Anne Cabot: **_

_Mom says I can't. She's on a rampage about how I need to recover at home after.. y'know, ...what I did. _

_ We didn't really talk about what I did that night after it was determined I was going to be okay, and I kind of liked it that way. I was beginning to get sick of people treating me like a fragile, breakable piece of china who may crack at any moment if the wrong word, or any word for that matter, was spoken. _

_ **Celeste Crawford:  
**_

_Oh. :( _

_** Raye-Anne Cabot: **_

_..doesn't mean I'm gonna listen. ;) I'll sneak out the window. She's so wrapped up in her own life most of the time, I doubt she'll even realize or check if I'm gone. If she does, well, fuck it. I'll deal when I get back. _

_** Celeste Crawford: **_

_ So badass, miss Raye. I'll see you there! _

_ I ended the conversation with a "you bet" and a thumbs up emoticon before deleting the thread and logging out. If Mom did by chance check on me, I wasn't going to be so dumb as to leave evidence of my rebellion right in front of her. Sneaking out the window was not something I did often, and my ineptness was evident as I fumbled and almost fell noisily to the ground on the outside. Brushing myself off as I walked along out of our yard, beginning the lengthy trek to this party, I wondered why I had even wanted to go. I wouldn't really know anybody there, and I wasn't popular. Why would somebody who gets bullied as much as I have been, throw herself into a line of fire like I was about to do? I didn't know the answer. Right now, and with all that had happened, I supposed anything was better than the confines of my home. _

_ "Want a beer?" _

_ The male voice was loud in my ear, no doubt trying to make himself heard over the pounding of the music coming through the many speakers. Even if he was sort of yelling, I could tell that if he weren't, his voice would be sexy. I was about to tell him that I didn't really drink all that much, and didn't really care for beer, but he'd opened one and put it in my hand before I could. In an effort to exude politeness, or to lessen my nervousness, I took a long sip. _

_ I pulled my lips away from the bottle top and repositioned it in my hand, holding the neck, the way I had when he'd first given it to me. I saw his smile then, directed at me, and wondered for a brief moment if I had something on my face, if my fly was unzipped.. why was he staring? But he gave me no hints and no reason to believe I was unknowingly embarrassing myself. The ever so perfect smile broke a little as he opened his mouth, and half-yelled at me. _

_ "I'm Sawyer." _

_ I was quiet for a second, not wanting to seem to eager to talk to someone I didn't know. _

_ "I like your name." God, I was lame. Flirting was definitely never my forte. _

_ "I might like yours too, y'know, if I knew it." _

_ I smiled. "Raye-Anne. But everyone just calls me Raye." _

_ "It's nice to meet you, Raye." _

_ We went on to talk about everything and nothing, me becoming increasingly inebriated in the process. I learned that Sawyer had two last names that made up his whole first name: Sawyer Smithson. I tried not to laugh at this, but I couldn't help it. I was glad he didn't notice. The lack of observation was probably due to copious amounts of beer. _

_ I learned that Sawyer Smithson's favorite color was green and told him mine was turquoise. He told me turquoise was a random color to have for a favorite, and I told him fuck off, turquoise was unique and normal shades of blue and green were boring, which made him laugh. I liked the sound of his laugh more than I expected I would. I wasn't sure if it was the result of beer bubbling within the pit of my stomach, coloring everything around me happy, or if I genuinely really liked it. Either way, the moment felt good and right. I was feeling light, better than I had in a while, and it made me glad I had come. _

_ Celeste had said "see you there" in her message to me on Facebook, but the bitch had forgotten me all together and I hadn't seen or run into her once. Sawyer and I started (without even knowing we had really started it) a game of drunken twenty questions. It started innocently enough, but turned into rapid fire questions back and forth, the questions becoming bolder as we became drunker. _

_ Even if I'd been sober, I probably would have been willing to answer any questions Sawyer Smithson wanted me to. I liked the fact that I'd never seen him before, probably because he was a friend of a friend of a somebody who went to my school and had tagged along for a good time. I could literally be anyone I wanted to be, and Sawyer wouldn't care. I could have reinvented my whole life there in that moment, getting to know him at a party I hadn't really wanted to be at. He didn't know who I really was, all the fucked up mistakes I made, that I wasn't really supposed to be here at all, and I wouldn't if I'd succeeded in what I'd attempted to do.._

_ But for the first time in a while, I decided not to lie. Maybe due to the alcohol making the conversation flow so easily from my usually so restricted body, maybe just because he was different, not to mention hot as hell. Maybe a combination of all of those things. I didn't know, and I didn't care. I met every question with honesty, without getting into the deep stuff, and when I'd realized what time it was, how drunk I'd gotten, I cursed myself knowing I wouldn't be able to make the walk back home. _

_ Sawyer laughed at me, as I scowled at him and he pulled his phone out calling me a cab. It had pulled up, and I remember him being a gentleman and paying my fare. I hoped beyond all hope that Mom wouldn't be home, or that she'd at least be in a deep sleep. I'd be royally screwed, my plan of sneaking in and out ruined if she saw me pull up in a cab. _

_ The last thing I remember, and I will probably never live this down, especially not if I ever see Sawyer Smithson again, is him kissing me next to that cab for a solid minute, the driver growing impatient, and me repaying his gesture by retching onto his shoes._

"You can't protect her from everything, Al."

We were sitting in my office, and I was nursing my fourth cup of coffee. I wouldn't normally call Olivia in here for no reason, but she was on desk duty, bored out of her mind and the day had been slow. I'd left for work earlier than usual that morning and Raye had still been asleep. I was thankful I'd found her in her bed and alive, exactly as she should have been.

"I know that, Liv. But that doesn't mean I won't try. Until you become a mother, you can't fully understand."

There was a look in her eyes I couldn't quite place, a sort of cross between resentment and sadness, and I didn't fully understand what had made her change so quickly. Upon her speaking, though, I instantly regretted what I'd said.

"I probably can't ever understand, then. Elliot and I just found out that I can't have babies."

"Oh Olivia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"No. It's fine, you didn't know."

"If you need anything, let me know, seriously."

"What the fuck are you gonna do, Alex? Have my child?"

She said this sarcastically and in a way that came off as rude, but I was sure she didn't intend it that way, so said nothing of it.

"No, but I will be here for you. If you need it. You have more friends than you believe, Liv."

What she didn't realize, what I would never say, is that I'd be more than willing to have her child. Even if it would never happen.

After I'd finally stopped daydreaming and pulled my head out of my ass enough to finish taking a shower, My mood and my state of being improved dramatically. It had improved even more when I checked my phone, noticing a text from Sawyer. I smiled as I read over the words.

_How hungover are you? Hahaha._

My fingers moved swiftly over the touch screen, quietly as if they weren't moving at all with the usual _tick-tick-tick _of the keypad at bay because I had all sound turned off. I liked that he used full sentences and correct spelling instead of stupid abbreviations.

_Oh my god, you don't even know. Ha! Sorry for puking my guts out onto your shoes. I'll repay you better than that the next time you kiss me. ;)_

_ There's gonna be a next time? HAHA_

_ Oh, pssh, whatever. Fuck you. _

_ Kidding, there will most definitely be a next time. _

Right then, I saw the flashing on the screen indicating that I had a new message from someone other than Sawyer and abandoned our conversation when I saw it was Mom.

_Hey sweetie. I'm at work. You okay? You were still asleep when I left. Just wanted to check in because I was worried about you. _

As much as I kind of liked the sentiment behind the message, I didn't need her treating me like I was ten, either. I felt like she was doing it even more so now after my failed attempt at death.

_I figured you were at work. And yes, I'm fine, Mom. Thanks._

What I didn't tell her, though, what I would never tell her, was that I was worried about me, too. For entirely different reasons she didn't know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Law & Order SVU or any affiliated characters. Any additional characters I've created are figments of my own imagination and intended to bear no resemblance to any real persons. Any similarities are purely coincidental.

I sat in the restaurant and waited for him, looking at my watch for the millionth time. I became fidgety and wondered if he would even come at all. _Maybe he's just perpetually late. _For once, the rational part of my brain that I so often didn't want to listen to, said something I didn't completely hate.

"Hiya."

His voice would be recognizable anywhere. Even if I only had the yelling he'd had to do at the party in order to be heard over shitty death metal that was playing to discern him from any other male, I would still be able to. In not having to yell, though, and being by ourselves without the distraction of other people, I found everything about him doubly pleasant and appealing.

"Hey. You're late." I smiled when I said this, so as not to come off as a controlling bitch, even if I sometimes was.

I saw him smile back at me and knew he hadn't picked up on any of my inner thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I have this thing for being chronically late for everything. I also got lost on the way here."

"I guess I can forgive you."

"Well thanks. I'm glad I'm forgiven."

The smile he'd given me just moments ago stayed pasted on his face as he seated himself across from me and I heard him chuckle at the end of his last sentence. I don't know if I'd ever stop loving that sound as much as I did. I'd enjoyed it a lot at the party, but now realized it wasn't just the alcohol causing me to become enamoured with him. It was one of those laughs that didn't match up with the person it was elicited from, which made it even more entrancing and which made me laugh myself every time I heard it.

"Did you drive here?"

In my head, all the things I ever said seemed sensible and legitimate topics of conversation until I heard them come out of my mouth. I didn't want to be awkward and fidgety on our first one on one encounter, and I also honestly wanted to know if he had a licence.

"Yeah, I just recently got my own car. It's nothing special. Secondhand and six years old, but it drives and it's mine. Paid for it all myself."

"Good for you. I admire people like that."

I saw him glance at me quizzically and cock his head to one side for a split second.

"Like what?"

"People who work hard and who aren't motivated by money. My Mom's an ADA and comes from a family with money. She always provided for me, but she's not like them. Even though she doesn't have to, she still works. Kinda strayed from her family a long time ago. She always told me that work ethic is important and to treat people well no matter where or what they come from."

"That's a good outlook to have. Your Mom seems like she raised you right."

I cast my gaze downward, my eyes boring into the faint speckled pattern on the plastic tabletop.

"Yeah, well, she did a lot wrong too."

Sawyer's expression was genuinely curious now, and my stomach churned as I silently contemplated whether or not I wanted to let him into my screwed up world. Would he become just another thing I had to survive? I was unsure, too, if he could hear the churning of my insides. It sounded loud and boisterous to my own ears, and I desperately wanted to stifle it.

Before I could make a decision, a waitress who looked not more than five years my senior came bounding up to our table, smiling, so cheerful it looked almost sickening and annoying and I kind of wanted to knock her block off, but then felt bad for my inner bitch raiding my conscience again.

"What can I getcha lovies?" As she smacked loudly on a piece of chewing gum, which I was entirely sure she wasn't supposed to be doing, my eyes scanned quickly over her name tag.

_ Hello, my name is JAN_

I almost laughed at the fact they had "Hello-my-name-is" name tags in a place like this. It wasn't overly classy, but it wasn't shabby or nondescript either. Managing to suppress any laughter, I noted too that her name was in all capital letters, as if it were exotic, important or the least bit exciting.

_JAN_

An awfully archaic name for someone who seemed to be so young. If my Mom had named me Jan, I think I would have killed her. I mentally went through all the things those three boring letters could be short for before realizing that my daydreaming had left Jan and Sawyer there silent, staring, and waiting for me to speak for probably a good five or six solid minutes.

"I'll take an iced tea, please."

Sawyer looked at me, questioningly.

"You're not eating?"

"I'm not all that hungry, and I don't have money on me. Forgot my wallet at home."

I had silently scolded myself on the walk over when I'd realized I'd forgotten it. Stupid, to forget your wallet on a date (if we could call it that, I didn't know.) to a restaurant. So that part was true. As far as not being hungry, I was lying through my teeth. I was famished. I hadn't yet eaten, but I didn't want Sawyer to know that. We'd only had one encounter excluding this one, and I didn't feel comfortable with him taking pity on me when I didn't know him as well as I wanted to.

"I can pay for you. You gotta eat something. If you don't, I'll feel like a pig. I can't get fat and ugly while you stay perfect and beautiful, can I?"

His eye closed, evoking a wink in my direction, and suddenly I didn't feel so uncomfortable anymore. Being prideful was one of my many flaws at times, and although I didn't want him to pamper me, something within me felt that this gesture was not out of pity for me. Plus, he'd called me perfect and beautiful, which I wasn't, but it was nice to hear and definitely had gained him some points. I'd imagined the smell of his food would make me wish I'd gotten some, and this fact was the straw that broke the camel's back and made me cave.

"Well, alright. I'll have an iced tea and a deluxe burger with onion rings, then."

The ever so exciting Jan scribbled this down on her pad, still sporting that sickening amount of cheerfulness.

"You betcha! And you, m'love?"

If it were anyone else, I'd find the fact that she used pet names for everyone bothersome too, but in this case I let it slide thinking her personality made up for the blandness of her three letter name.

Sawyer didn't even really glance at the menu long before ordering. He'd never been here before, I knew, because he'd said when he got here that he was late due in part to getting lost. Maybe he just read really fast, or was really decisive and ate a lot of generic foods at restaurants.

"I'll have a chocolate shake, a deluxe double cheeseburger, an order of fries and a small order of cheese sticks."

Jan didn't even glance up from her pad of paper, scribbling furiously but dispassionately, as if people ate that copiously all the time. Maybe here they did. She walked away with another sickening smile, leaving us to our own devices while we waited on the food.

"Holy shit. How can you eat that much and not gain weight, or even have a zit? Life is not fair."

That laugh I had come to love rung out loud and clear, as if coming from the depth of his belly, like I'd genuinely amused him.

"Life's not fair for any of us, babe. I guess I just got lucky in the looks department. I wish more so that I'd lucked out with brains."

I tapped my fingers lightly on the tabletop and looked intently at him.

"I don't know, you seem pretty smart to me." I smiled at him then, wanting him to hear and see my sincerity.

There was a lull in the conversation, and we sat in a silence, companionable and lovely. I'd never known that kind of camaraderie with anybody, where you're able to simply enjoy the company of each other without feeling incompetent or awkward. I had that with Sawyer, and I was learning to like it.

"What did you mean earlier.. when you said your Mom did a lot wrong?"

I'd completely forgotten my previous statement with the arrival of Jan happening upon our table. Even though it had been just moments ago that I'd silently wondered if I could or wanted to trust him with my deepest, darkest secrets, it felt as though a lifetime had passed since the ordering of food and that ensuing companionable silence that had momentarily hung between us. Surprising even to myself, I launched into explanation without an ounce of hesitation.

"She's done well in the sense of providing for me, but I don't get much of her attention. It's like the victims she helps at work are more important than me. Being an ADA has always come first to her. She's not home all that much. My Dad died before I was born in some car accident."

No words came out of his mouth, but I saw some nameless expression flash across his face and knew something I'd said must have registered with him.

"Here yas go." Jan sauntered cheerily (go figure) toward us and set our piping hot plates of food down in front of us.

"I hate to bother you like this, and I should have said something before, but could we get that wrapped up, like, to go?"

Jan and I both were taken aback by his abruptness, but she didn't seem bothered by it. I however, was both confused and intrigued as to what would come next. I was beginning to suspect Sawyer Smithson was much more than ordinary.

"Sure, m'love. No problem. Give me a sec and I'll be back."

I waited until she left to lay into him, albeit not angrily.

"What the actual fuck was that, exactly?"

I squashed a laugh down to the depths of the pit of my stomach as he looked at me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I wanna take you somewhere, is all. Somewhere much better than this dive."

Jan came back with our food, wrapped up in foils and Styrofoam containers all neatly arranged in a zippered heat-conserving carry bag. I thanked her, and she called me lovey one more time before Sawyer led me eagerly by the hand out to his car, giving me no choice whatsoever in the matter.

We drove for a long time, the only thing breaking the silence between us being the soft hum of the car radio. It was a sedate backdrop to our companionable ride together, until he turned it louder upon hearing one of his favorite songs. I was deeply shocked and impressed at the same time to realize that one of his favorites was also mine, and began singing and humming lyrics and melody under my breath.

"Wow."

I noticed in my peripheral vision him looking at me, eyes wide in wonder.

"What?"

"You've got a voice. Shit. Who woulda thought?"

I smiled, reaching for his free hand entwining our fingers.

"Thanks. So does Mom. She never uses it though. I always kinda wanted to be a singer, even if I am shy about it."

"You got nothing to be shy about, with a voice like that. You shouldn't give up if it's something you really want."

And the way he said it, I didn't ever want to.

We pulled up to what looked like a field that was no longer used for much of anything. Acres and acres of nothingness. We must've driven at least two hours outside of the city. It was plain and simple, yet held more natural beauty than I'd seen in a long time, maybe the entirety of my life. The sky was grey and threatening rain, but somehow I knew it'd hold off for us. It had to. If it didn't, well maybe that'd make the moments, whatever they were about to be, more perfect.

Sawyer unfastened his belt and swivelled around, grabbing a rolled up fleecy kind of blanket from his back seat.

"I thought we could, y'know, eat here. Nobody comes out here. It's like my own private spot. Much better place for conversations, too."

I was speechless. This beautiful, deep, complicated human being had driven me, someone he'd only really met once, two hours outside of the hustle and bustle of the city, to a field in the countryside just to eat food he'd bought us in peace. Just because he wanted to talk. To get to know me. Any hesitations I'd had fell away in the moment I'd realized what he was doing, and against all my efforts to impede them, tears began to fall.

"Hey, hey. If you don't like it, we can go back. It was just a thought. It's all right."

I smiled through the tears at the way he spoke to me; as if comforting a small, frightened child. Although I would never say so yet, or maybe at all, I was beginning to think the feelings of love were budding inside me for this person I hardly knew.

"No, it's not that. I just, didn't think you'd do all this for me. Nobody ever has, really."

Unfastening my seatbelt with one hand, I wiped my eyes with the other and watched him open his door to get out. Carrying our food, I followed a few paces behind him as I watched him find a spot he thought would suffice in the middle of the grass and unroll the blanket he'd tucked under one arm.

By the time I reached him, he was spread out across it, propped up on one elbow, waiting for me to sit down next to him and unwrap what we'd now waited so long to eat and hoped the heat-holding bag had kept good and hot.

"If they haven't, they're stupid."

I heard him over the crackle of unwrapping foil and responded without looking up.

"Huh?"

"If no guy has ever done this for you before, anything like this, they are stupid fools, and they're missing out. I've only spent a period of two days with you, and I already want to soak in everything you'll give me, everything you are."

My palms were starting to sweat, and I feared dropping the food, but apparently I had more self control than I gave myself credit for.

Upon its total unwrapping and correct distribution, I sat cross legged and ate my food next to him.

"So, what do your parents do. I wanna hear about you, now."

He'd listened to so much about me, I was beginning to feel self centred, but with the way my unexpected question hit him and the answer he gave, I instantly knew the reason for the expression he'd given me before leaving the restaurant.

"They're dead. They were murdered when I was really young. They were into the wrong things, made friends with the wrong people. I guess they crossed some of those people or owed money they didn't have, so someone took matters into their own hands and shot them, then shot himself. Stupid fuck was too much of a coward to pay for his doings, I s'pose."

In all of the things I'd been through in the last few years, I'd seemingly forgotten that other people had problems, and Sawyer's seemed much bigger and more tragic than my own.

"God, I'm sorry. That's awful. So who... who do you live with?"

"My Aunt Vivian. She took me in after it happened even though she had my four cousins to raise and doesn't have much herself. We were basically broke growing up. I remember her having to go to the food bank a lot, to have enough to feed all of us. But she loved us and is really proud of all of us. I've worked since I was able to, and she instilled that drive in us. I actually recently got accepted to a really good university out of state. I'll be the first out of my immediate family to graduate college at all, let alone go on a full scholarship."

"That is amazing. I'm so happy for you. I'm really sorry that all of that happened to you, though."

"Meh, don't be. We all have our problems. Whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?"

I didn't know if I entirely believed him.

"Well, sometimes. Maybe for some people. I think sometimes the things that don't end up killing us just make us walk around feeling like empty, hollow sacks of shit."

Warmth danced on the skin of my hand, making it tingle as he held it, running his thumb over the back.

"Are we speaking from experience, miss Raye? Because it sounds as though we are."

I let out a deep sigh, choosing my words carefully.

"I get bullied a lot at school. Like a _lot. _I'm really smart, too. Keep up a good GPA, nice to everyone, but none of it matters. People talk. They talk and they hate and they're evil and fake. I've eaten lunch in the bathrooms alone more times than I can count. Been punched in the face and gotten my head rammed into the toilet. Everybody says to tell someone and it will stop, but it never does. Nobody gives a fuck. Only after you're dead and gone, do they notice. All of that coupled with Mom's lack of attention, that was what I wanted to be. Dead. So a few months ago I wrote a goodbye note, took a bunch of pills and tried to off myself. Waited for permanent sleep that didn't come, woke up in a hospital miraculously still alive but everybody hating me more than I thought they did before for having attempted it. That night that I met you at the party wasn't too long after all of it happened. Mom wanted me to stay home. Thought I could recover by being alone and sleeping it off, but I wanted to go so I took it upon myself to sneak out. Thank God she was asleep when I pulled up in the cab. But yeah, if I hadn't failed at that, I wouldn't be here."

I'd spoken all of this deep shit without taking even a breath, but the look reflected in his eyes when I finished was not sorrow, shame or pity, but genuine understanding and joy over the fact he was able to sit next to me in this moment.

"I'm glad you are."

I smiled and felt his lips hot on mine and his tongue exploring my mouth as I parted them and let him kiss me.

"Me too."

I thought I knew genuine happiness as I pulled away.

Sitting on the edge of the bed at ten-oh-five AM on mine and Elliot's rare day off together, I sipped my coffee as I watched him sleep. I'd always thought he was at his sexiest in those peaceful, sleepy moments. He slept like a baby on days off, while I was up at the crack of dawn no matter what.

The ring of the phone sitting in its cradle on the nightstand next to my side of the bed startled me, almost causing me to spill hot coffee all over the exposed skin of my legs my denim shorts didn't cover. I set down the mug and not wanting to wake my boyfriend from his much needed sleep, walked out into the kitchen before answering.

"Hello?"

I usually answered all calls with "Benson" when my cell rang, but work related things were rarely ever directed to our home lines, especially on days off as per our request.

"Olivia?"

The voice on the other end sounded groggy with sleep, but I would've recognized it anywhere. I didn't expect to ever hear from her, but I was undoubtedly happy I had.

"Yeah, it's me. Hey, Raye. How're you doing?"

"I'm... all right. I hope I didn't wake you. I feel weird calling you at home."

"Nah, you didn't wake me. El is still asleep, but he'll sleep through anything. I'm always awake early. You don't have to feel weird. I gave you my number for a reason, honey. Are y'sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I just wondered if maybe I could come by later. Mom's at work, as per usual, and I have some stuff I wanted to talk about."

I smiled into the phone. It was good to hear her in decent spirits, even if not fully back to her old self.

"Sure, babe. I'm off all day."

"Yeah, Don said. I called the one six first. I'll take the bus over later and be there around one?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you then, love."

I hated buses, the throngs of people, the smell, everything about them. I would much rather have walked but the distance between my place and Olivia's and Elliot's was too far to go by foot. Somehow, the payoff being spending time with Liv made the ride on this disgusting bus seem more than worth it.

I'd cleaned house and even baked a batch of cookies which was uncharacteristic for me, and told Elliot he needed to find something to occupy a few hours of his time so Raye and I could girl-talk in private. Without hesitation he'd left to do God knew what, and I anxiously awaited Raye's arrival, wondering what it is she wanted to tell me and hoping it wasn't bad.

I sat at Liv's wooden kitchen table cramming copious amounts of amazingly scrumptious cookies into my mouth and washing them down with chocolate milk. In between my actions of voraciousness, which Olivia didn't even seem to think were abnormal, I told her the story of Sawyer Smithson, his kisses, and our kinda-sorta date the day before.

"I really really like him."

"Aw he sounds so sweet, how did you meet him?"

I didn't really want to answer, but some part of me had always trusted Olivia.

"You won't tell Mom, right?"

"Honey, I was a teenager once, too. Your secret is pretty safe with me."

"Mom wanted me to stay home and "recover" from, y'know, what I did, by sleeping it off. I couldn't get her to see my side rationally, but I wanted to go to this party someone from my school was having, be around people, y'know? So, I snuck out the window and walked there, and that's where I met Sawyer. We talked all night, and I drank a little bit too much, so he called me a cab home. I snuck back in without Mom knowing. She was asleep. The next morning she was gone to work before she could even realize I was hungover."

"You badass, you. At least he was sensible and nice enough to call you a cab."

"Right? He paid for it, too. We kissed that night, too.. but I kinda threw up on his shoes after."

"Oh, God, you didn't! Awkward."

She laughed, her eyes closing with the intensity of it, blonde hair falling freely where it wanted as she threw back her head. I watched her, jovial and happy, enjoying her company and the fact she was confiding in me, but some part of my gut wondering if it was okay to keep this relationship, and all the secrets that may or may not come with it, from her mother.


End file.
